This is NOT the post I am supposed to be writing. I am supposed to be showing you pictures of my completed brooder (from hell) that is big enough to be a chicken coop and therefore is a chicken coop and informing you that all 37 of the chicks hatched on July 10 and delivered into my care on July 11 (why oh why hasn't the Murray McMurray Hatchery learned better yet?) at the US Post Office in Norwalk are still alive. I am also supposed to be explaining why cutting the grass is a contact sport. After that there is to be the discussion about the dog and his missing boy parts and how he seems to have failed to notice ANYTHING at all other than the fact that he had two rides in the car and was stoned out of his mind for awhile. He walked face first into a glass door and left a big slobbery St. Bernard face print on the way out and I am QUITE clear that didn't even hit the radar (we can blame the drugs for that one).
But if you got a big sheet of plastic wrapped around your workspace floor to ceiling wouldn't you be just a wee bit distracted from most other things?
Is this not the coolest
Don't you wish you could have one too? Oxygen? Not to worry. I know you probably can't see it but there's at least one AC vent to the right of the light in the upper right corner of the photo. Behind me are three super large windows that make up three quarters of my wall and two of them open (the other opened until last week when I managed to break it in the closed position which I suppose is better than the alternative). There is also a unit built into the wall below the windows that will blow air that is either luke warm, coolish or arctic, your choice.
To further put some perspective on this I have turned around and captured a blurry view of, well, my view which I consider the best view hands down in the building or at least on the fifth floor. Normally it's a little greener out there but it's been a bit hot and dry and I'm pleased that they aren't running the sprinklers quite honestly.
I like to sit in that church sometimes between 11 and 2 when it's open because if I'm really lucky the dude who plays the super ancient pipe organ is practicing and one day I heard him playing (I am NOT making this up, you CANNOT make this shit up)...
In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida (baaaabeeee) (I've never really agreed with the hyphenation, by the way). On a pipe organ. A really old pipe organ dating back to the late 18th century I believe. In an Episcopal Church.
I've never actually seen Pipe Organ Dude by the way, which is because he sits somewhere quite hidden, like way up in the BACK of the church but my buddy Pet Boy swears he knows him intimately which sort of worries me.
Anyway, that's the back view that goes with the front view which is the plastic bubble without a door. It's taped all the way around except for a three foot section at the end where it's weighted with a three foot metal bar to keep it from flying about.
Nobody wants to come in here because I keep one window cracked and the AC on just a tiny bit (coolish) to help circulate the air and so it's probably a nice balmy 80ish in here which is just the way I like it. The minute I step out of the bubble I'm literally assaulted with an arctic blast I don't much care for. In case anyone's wondering, I still don't miss those 9 feet of show. The heat and humidity? I'm still WAY too humbled by last winter to be anything but grateful. So I'm alone.
Everyone else bugged out of here months ago because they were terrified of the noise. There isn't any noise. The work is all being done at night. Wait. Back up. Pet Boy, my buddy who orders all the hardware, the God of all things Field Support and our VP of ET (please don't ask me to explain that), THEY all had to move out because their living space has just been gutted. We're building out a conference room and walling in IT so that nobody is offended by all the boxes that come and go and all those lovely pieces parts that nobody seems to appreciate other than me (what's not to love about spare cat5?).
After THAT everyone else bugged out. It got really quiet in here. They all moved to Beirut. Beirut is on the other side of the floor and while we don't technically lease that side of the building anymore we didn't exactly clean up on our way out either so it looks like it's been bombed and then looted. We're squatting over there until the build out over here is complete.
The build out was delayed so long it looked like it wasn't going to happen. The deadline was July 30 because after July 30 we had to get out of Beirut. I was getting myself psyched up for having to live with people again. The handful of people who ran for the hills were starting to feel a little silly. We were all a little sad about the conference room. I'd been told to keep my room clean or forever lose my view. I'd been doing that so long it seemed like a terrible waste to have it suddenly not matter if we weren't going to have people walking by and wondering whether Alecto the Terrible was likely to light a match and burn the place down anytime soon.
And then one day there were architects back in the building and there was hope. The people who ran for the hills were back at my cube laughing and I reminded them once again that the majority of the work was going to be done at night and that a protective curtain was going up around the work area to keep our work spaces clean. Nobody believed me. They said I'd run screaming from all the hammering and swearing and noise in general. I smiled my secret Honey-badger don't really give a rat's ass smile and said, 'you know, I'm damn near stone deaf anyway and the other half of me is oblivious so it hardly matters.'
Yesterday they made me my own bubble. Initially I think it was a joke because they've since put up the curtain around the work site that basically seals it off from the rest of the floor so is protected from dust and debris including the fax machines and the printers. I think my bubble started out as a joke because the VP of ET was telling one of the builders that I ought to just be shrink wrapped for staying and I ran out of my cube and begged to be shrink wrapped but no packing peanuts please although I wouldn't mind a red stapler. The VP of ET really did seem like he meant it because they were discussing little doors and everything.
But the next day, no shrink wrap. I was very disappointed. I asked the VP of ET why I wasn't shrink wrapped. He gave me a weird look. I gave him an even weirder look and finally he said, all in due time. I walked up to the workers and introduced myself. I asked which of them was going to shrink wrap me. Thenk I got a bunch of REALLY weird looks, one of which I swear was slightly hopeful. I clarified myself. They pointed to a guy halfway across the floor who waved. I ran over and introduced myself and told him I just couldn't wait to be shrink wrapped. And then I remembered I should mention the cube but he seemed to know what I meant. I was still expecting saran wrap.
A little while later he showed up with the sheeting and in about fifteen minutes I had my own bubble, a quarantine if you will.
My boss, however, walked in, sat down and said:
"You do know you can't keep this, right? Right?"
Sadly I'm afraid it's going to be over in about three weeks. We won't make the July 30 deadline but apparently we've got a brief enough extension to get us through. There is absolutely no work being done during the day since they did the set up yesterday. It's completely deserted over here.
Today I have been homicidal. Today the bubble has saved multiple lives. It's true. I swear it.
I think it might be time to go home now. Good night, bubble! See you in the morning!